


Much Ado About Shakespeare: Love’s Labours Won

by bbcphile



Series: Much Ado About Shakespeare [1]
Category: Hornblower (TV)
Genre: Age of Sail, Angst and Humor, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Fun With Genres, M/M, References to Shakespeare
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-08
Updated: 2016-04-08
Packaged: 2018-05-31 22:59:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6490738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bbcphile/pseuds/bbcphile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Archie's devotion to Shakespeare leads Horatio to propose a bet. The stakes are higher than either of them realize.  Puns! Panic attacks! Confessions! And, of course, the Bard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Somber Soliloquy

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings: Mention of past sexual abuse (no graphic descriptions) and past suicide attempt, depiction of panic attack and dissociation, depression, PTSD symptoms, and suicidal impulses.
> 
> Thanks to fionatlux and dplepage for doing beta duty and to que_sera for reading an early version!

_\--When, in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes_

 Archie Kennedy closed his eyes, willing this time to be different. He knew that reading of sacrificing one’s happiness to protect another was unlikely to diminish his affection for Horatio, but the great Bard might succeed where all else had faltered. He sighed, wrenched his eyes open to face the dog-eared, tattered page that contained Shakespeare’s Sonnet 36, and forced himself to take in the familiar phrases:

         Let me confess that we two must be twain,  
         Although our undivided loves are one:  
         So shall those blots that do with me remain,  
         Without thy help, by me be borne alone.  
         In our two loves there is but one respect,  
         Though in our lives a separable spite,  
         Which though it alter not love's sole effect,  
         Yet doth it steal sweet hours from love's delight.  
         I may not evermore acknowledge thee,  
         Lest my bewailed guilt should do thee shame,  
         Nor thou with public kindness honour me,  
         Unless thou take that honour from thy name:  
         But do not so, I love thee in such sort,  
         As thou being mine, mine is thy good report.

He waited. Nothing changed. Archie closed his eyes again and let his head fall backward until it knocked against on the bulkhead with a thud. Damn it all to hell.

Archie knew what people thought of him. He had heard too many whispers on the _Justinian_ and the _Indy_ to be innocent about the gossip that followed him: a pitiful weakling unfit for command or battle, mentally unbalanced and morally unsound. It rarely stung these days—after all, he had accused himself of worse on multiple occasions—so he usually tried to take no notice of it. After his actions of a fortnight ago, he no longer had that option. He had made his feelings for Horatio too plain when he raced across the exploding bridge to save him. The rumors would start soon enough, and Horatio--righteous, upstanding, innocent Horatio--would pay the price. Archie refused to let his own failings ruin his friend’s career, or, God forbid, endanger his life! To keep Horatio safe, he must try to absent himself as much as possible until his feelings and desires had altered, or were at least easier to hide.

But he still selfishly wanted Horatio for himself. Horatio, who never gave up on him, whose good opinion made him want to do his best, to carry on, to . . . to be. Horatio had always anchored him in this “sea of troubles,” and Archie could no sooner stop loving him than he could breathe underwater.

Sometimes he felt it would be easier to simply confess his love to his dear friend, and damn the consequences. But the navy, its rules, and its laws were Horatio’s Holy Book, and while he doubted even Horatio could bring himself to enforce Article 29 against his closest friend, the revelation would surely drive him away. Archie shuddered; hanging from the yardarm would be preferable. No, for the preservation of their friendship, Archie had to work harder to bury his feelings. He had always been too open with his affections, as Simpson had made painfully clear. Archie had certainly paid dearly for letting Simpson discover his partiality towards Horatio . . . he shook his head, shoving that memory back to the recesses where it belonged.

In any event, he could readily imagine how much more apparent it must be after all these years, and he was not about to make the same mistake again. So, here he sat, facing the impossible task of falling out of love with Horatio. Archie had even resorted to leaving the room when Horatio entered, lest he feel tempted to find solace in the casual touches they used to share, a deprivation more difficult to stomach than starvation, it seemed. He read this sonnet each day, hoping against hope that after a week or two, it would be more bearable. It wasn't.

Of course, it was selfish of him to worry about his own predicament, when Horatio had so recently lost so much. His friend’s heart lay shattered with the bridge in Muzillac where Mariette had died senselessly. He had barely been able to coax Horatio into moving from where she lay before the bridge caught fire. The image of Horatio cradling Mariette's corpse still haunted Archie every night. And that first evening. . . . Archie grimaced. He had done his best to comfort Horatio, but Horatio had come entirely undone. He had sobbed into Archie's shoulder until early morning when he had exhausted himself into a fitful slumber. Archie had tried to console him, but he was entirely at a loss to imagine how he could help. He knew that, had Horatio been shot and he himself been left behind holding the corpse, words would have been utterly useless. Coward that he was, he would have gone up with the bridge. Indeed, death on the bridge might have been preferable – if he could have taken Mariette’s place, then at least Horatio would have her instead of heartbreak.

But no. Horatio needed him alive, as much now as he had in El Ferrol. Archie exhaled sharply. That damned prison. He had been so convinced that the only way to save Horatio was to die: he had been too sick and broken to walk, and too haunted by the spectre of the past to try. It had been a relief to stop eating, to nearly attain the “consummation devoutly to be wish’d.” But Horatio had insisted that he wouldn't survive without Archie. He had begged him to live, and Archie hadn’t the strength to let him down. So he lived. He returned to sea. He helped Horatio. And he would continue to do so. After all, who would drag Horatio off the next bridge set to blow, if he weren't there? Horatio had given him so much and asked for so little in return: the least he could do was to keep him safe.

The _Indy_ 's bell rang, signalling the shift in the watch. It was time to go above deck and meet Horatio for shore leave. They would then spend the better part of 50 hours together, sharing every meal, adventure, and bed. Archie scrubbed his hand over his face. Somehow, he needed to keep Horatio from discovering the true nature of his feelings over two days of constant contact while pretending that nothing was amiss. Right.

Archie rose and forced a semblance of a smile. Even without a mirror, he could tell it didn't quite work. The smile didn't reach his eyes, and his skin was stretched too tightly over his bones. This would never do; what would his Drury Lane companions say of this pitiful attempt?

He put his book at the bottom of his sea chest and took one last look around the room. "Once more unto the breach," he muttered, then shook himself, plastered on a smile, and began to play his part.


	2. The Challenge

_-_ _-The Play’s the Thing_

 The warm sun did nothing to lift Horatio’s mood as he made his way across the deck to board the jolly boat. Horatio had passed a restless night in his hammock as he tried and failed to solve his dilemma. The storm hadn't helped. All he had to show for his efforts was a headache and a temper that was inadvisably close to the surface. Horatio exhaled deeply and tried to clear his mind, or at least direct it to more pleasant matters, like reviewing signals, or navigation puzzles. If only he had a minute more to collect himself before he had to speak with anyone, especially Archie.

Naturally, the universe had other plans. Horatio heard quick, almost bouncing footsteps coming from behind him, and turned around to see Archie approaching from below deck, sporting a wide grin. Damn. Of course, it was possible that his friend was simply excited about their shore leave together; certainly Horatio himself normally enjoyed it. But Archie had been avoiding him for weeks, which was the crux of the problem; Horatio had half-expected him to beg off their planned excursion entirely. Surely this sudden cheerfulness could not be genuine. Horatio had hoped Archie might confide in him while they had the privacy of shore leave. But if Archie was going to stubbornly act as though nothing were the matter, then this would be a long trip indeed. They greeted each other, Archie with his customary cheer, and walked across the deck together in silence.

That is, until Archie shattered it. “Now sits the wind fair, and we will aboard!”

This was just what the day needed, Horatio thought. Archie was going to avoid discussing the situation by quoting Shakespeare. Horatio tried not to grit his teeth.

“Yes, Archie, thank you for that observation. Without your assistance, I never would have known that we are about to board the boat.”

“Well, you’re in a foul mood this morning,” said Archie, his brow furrowing. “What’s the matter, Horatio?”

Horatio sighed and ran a hand over his face. “I’m sorry, Archie. I barely slept last night, thanks to that blasted storm. That was Shakespeare, I assume?”

Archie nodded. “Henry V, Act 2, scene 2. It seemed fitting.”

“I suppose it was,” said Horatio, then lapsed again into silence.

 He quickly decided that silence was worse. “You speak mostly in Shakespeare these days,” he complained.

 Archie frowned. “I thought you had begun to appreciate the Bard at last!”

 “Yes, in moderation!” Horatio explained, exasperated. “I enjoy hearing the odd scene or two in our rare idle moments, but surely this is excessive!”

 Archie rolled his eyes. “Says the man who can’t complete three sentences without discussing the structural integrity of masts or the latest theories of navigation.”

 Horatio blinked at Archie in confusion.  “But, Archie, we are lieutenants in His Majesty's navy! It’s our duty to stay abreast of the status of our ship and recent naval advances!”

 “And I have no quarrel with that,” Archie retorted. “But the navy need not occupy your mind every second of every day!”

 “As Shakespeare does yours?” Horatio snapped.

 “Come now, Horatio. If I truly spoke in nothing but Shakespeare quotations, you would know,” Archie scoffed.

 “It couldn’t possibly be any worse than this,” Horatio grumbled sullenly.

 “Is that a challenge?” Archie asked, meeting Horatio’s gaze with a smirk.

 Horatio paused, tilting his head as he considered his options. “Do you know what? It is.” If Archie was determined to evade substantive conversation, Horatio could at least get something out of it. “I will bet you drinks at the Elephant Inn tomorrow night that you cannot speak in exclusively Shakespeare quotations, relevant to the discussion at hand and never repeating a line, for the next four hours,” he said smugly.  

 “Six hours, and you’ll buy my dinner as well,” Archie countered.

 Horatio smiled as they clambered into the jolly boat together. “If you wish to part with your money, who am I to deny you? But I doubt you can last even two.”

 

_*** Scene 1: The waters of Portsmouth. A jolly boat ***_

Archie: [Gestures theatrically and grinning] “By yonder moon I swear you do me wrong”!

Horatio: By yonder moon, I swear you’ll buy my dinner tomorrow.

Archie: “Swear not by the moon, th' inconstant moon,  
             That monthly changes in her circle orb  
              Lest that thy love prove likewise variable!”

Horatio: [Flustered] My love? What? I  . . Oh, for goodness’ sake! This is ridiculous. I am regretting this already.

Archie: “Did’st ever hear a man so penitent”?

Horatio: [Fixes Archie with a flat stare]

Archie: “His very silence and his patience

             Speak to the people.”

Horatio: Damned if I speak, and damned if I stay silent. How much longer until we reach the shore?

Archie: [Flippantly] “Till one can do no more.”

Horatio: We’ll see if you’re this cheerful once you’ve lost.

Archie: “Nor care I who doth feed upon my cost!”

Horatio: Oh no. You’ve begun to rhyme?

Archie: “To the last syllable of recorded time.”

Horatio: Will you stop rhyming if I concede you’ve won?

Archie: “How shalt thou hope for mercy, rendering none?”

Horatio: [Pauses for a moment as he thinks, smiles, then slowly and deliberately] “We’ll surely avoid scurvy if we all eat an orange.”

Archie:  [Immediately, with mock outrage] “Give not this rotten orange to your friend!”

Horatio: At least it broke your rhyming. That was more than I could bear.

Archie: “Exit, pursued by a bear.”

Horatio: Lines only, Mr. Kennedy, not stage directions, if you wish to avoid accusations of cheating!

Archie: [Mock offended]  “He speaks poniards, and every word stabs!”

Horatio: [Clears throat] I suppose we did not delineate the rules so precisely. Very well, I rescind my objection.

Archie: [Smugly] “Forget, forgive; conclude and be agreed.”

Horatio: Right, good. [Awkward pause, followed by a mischievous grin.] So, Mr. Kennedy, let’s see if you can answer this! “You're close-hauled on the port tack, beating up the channel with a north-easterly wind blowing strong, with Dover bearing north two miles. The wind veers four points, taking you flat aback, and you’re dismasted with the cliffs of Dover under your lee. What do you do?”

Archie: “What though the mast be now blown overboard,  
             The cable broke, the holding-anchor lost,  
             And half our sailors swallow'd in the flood?”

Horatio: You can’t get out of it that easily! Answer the question!

Archie: “I hope you do not mean to cheat me so.”

Horatio: It’s a perfectly valid query! Nothing in our rules precludes questions about navigation. Do you yield?

Archie: “Wherefore to Dover? Let him first answer that!”

Horatio: What do you mean, why Dover? It's the question!

Archie: “Knowest thou the way to Dover?”

Horatio: Of course!  As I said, up the channel with the cliffs under your lee!

Archie: “Let me persuade you take a better course.”

Horatio: I’m sorry?

Archie: “You do mistake your business.”

Horatio: [Confused] What are you . . .?

Archie: [Slowly and conspiratorially, with a wink] “I see the trick on’t.”

Horatio: [Sudden realization] Oh! Um, well spotted, Mr. Kennedy, as always. Of course. It was indeed a trick question and I’m pleased you saw through it so quickly.

Archie: [Knowing smirk] “What impossible matter will he make easy next?”

Horatio: I, uh, I think that’s enough navigation puzzles for the moment. [Beat] So, what are your plans once we reach Portsmouth?

Archie: “What should a man do but be merry?”

Horatio: Surely you can be more specific.

Archie: “I drink, I eat, array myself, and live.”

Horatio: That should be fairly straightforward. No other plans? No one to visit?

Archie: “Not I.” [Beat] “Why may not I demand  
            Of thine affairs, as well as thou of mine?”

Horatio: Demand away; it’s no secret. My only task is to purchase a new hat in town. Will you come?

Archie: “I will buy with you, sell with you, talk with you, walk with you, and so following.”

Horatio: Excellent.

Archie: “Light boats sail swift, though greater hulks draw deep.”

Horatio: [Confused] What?

Archie: [Amused]  “Sit still, and hear the last of our sea-sorrow.  
              Here in this island we arrived.”

Horatio: Oh, thank goodness.

[Horatio starts to step out of the boat onto the land, but freezes when Archie starts laughing.]

Horatio: [Perplexed] What is it?

Archie: “One foot in sea and one on shore,  
             To one thing constant never.”

Horatio: [Rolls eyes] You are impossible, Mr. Kennedy.

[Everyone else on the boat has given up on pretending not to listen and has started laughing]

Archie: [Jumps out of the boat into the shallow water and bows comically] “Thanks, my countrymen, my loving friends!”

Horatio: [To Archie] Alright, you’ve amused your audience long enough at my expense. [To the crew] Gentlemen, we’ll see you again in a few days. [To Archie as they wade to shore.] How does it feel to be back on British soil once again?

Archie: [With a smile, once he is completely on land] “This blessed plot, this earth, this realm, this England!”

Horatio: [Chuckles] Aptly spoken. But how will you manage this when we reach the town? What will people say about such theatrics?

Archie: “All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players.”

Horatio: But seriously, now, Archie, what if we encounter someone we know? What would you say then?

Archie: “I knew him, Horatio.”

Horatio: [Beat] Damn. I set myself up for that one, didn’t I?

Archie: “Yea, my lord.”

_*** Scene 2: Portsmouth. A hat shop ***_

 Horatio: [Trying on hat] What about this one?

Archie: “O monstrous! O strange! we are haunted. Pray, masters! fly, masters!”

Horatio: [Rolls his eyes] Be serious, Archie! What do you think?

[Archie stares at him meaningfully.]

Horatio: [Hurriedly takes it off] It can’t be that bad.

[Archie raises an eyebrow.]

Horatio:  . . .Very well, how about this one?

Archie: Hmmm. “Methinks she's too low for a high praise, too brown for a fair praise and too little for a great praise.”

Horatio: [Sighs] Even this hat is a little too dear. Perhaps I should wait to purchase a new hat until our next shore leave to give my purse more time to recover.

Archie: [Looks skeptical] “Our raiment and state of bodies would bewray what life we have led.”

Horatio: Do you really think we look that shabby? Blast. Well, I suppose there’s nothing for it.

Archie: “Is his head worth a hat?”

Horatio: Is it too much to hope that you’ve now exhausted your supply of millinery quotations?

Archie: “It is not possible, it cannot be.”

Horatio: Fine. How does this look? [Beat] . . . Archie? [He turns around to look at Archie]

Archie: [Stares at Horatio, lost in thought with a wistful smile on his face]

             “Describe Adonis, and the counterfeit

             Is poorly imitated after you.”

Horatio: [Blushes and looks irritated] Really now, Archie! Is it acceptable or not?

Archie: [Blinks, shakes his head, and says, theatrically]  
            “How many gazers mightst thou lead away,  
             If thou wouldst use the strength of all thy state!”

Horatio: Now you’re just mocking me!

Archie: “By my troth, I speak my thought.”

Horatio:  . . . Really? I suppose it does look rather smart. I’ll go buy it! [Horatio walks towards the counter to purchase the hat.]

Archie: [Calls after him] “Yea, and a case to put it into.”

[Horatio glares at him over his shoulder while continuing to the counter.  Archie shakes his head and waits.]

Archie: [To himself]

           “I know I love in vain, strive against hope;  
           Yet in this captious and intenible sieve  
            I still pour in the waters of my love  
             And lack not to lose still. . .  
                                       . . . I adore  
           The sun, that looks upon his worshipper,  
           But knows of him no more.”

Horatio: [Returns] Archie, did you say something?

Archie: “Something; and scarce so much: nothing, indeed.”

Horatio: What the Devil is that supposed to mean?

Archie: “Nothing. What news?”

Horatio: [Rolls his eyes, then gets distracted by another hat, and tries it on] Oh, this is a nice hat, don’t you think?

Archie: “Doff it for shame, And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.”

Horatio: Come now, Archie, I am not “recreant.” Now you’re just being contrary.

Archie: “And hang a calf’s-skin on those recreant limbs!”

Horatio:  I am NOT “recreant”! And we agreed: no repeating lines!

Archie: “And hang a calf’s-skin on those recreant limbs!”

Horatio: [Nettled] If you insist on this nonsense, then you forfeit the match. I look forward to dinner at your expense!

Archie: “Nay, pray, be patient!” “Pause awhile, and let my counsel sway you in this case.” [He looks out the window of a shop, sees a booksellers, and turns back to Horatio, eyes twinkling.]

Archie: “Let us go. Come.” [He walks toward the door ]

Horatio: [Still irritated] Archie, where are we going? [Archie pulls him through the open door and into the street.]

 

_** Scene 3: Portsmouth. A bookseller’s. **_

 Horatio: [Being pulled into the store by Archie] Archie, unhand me! What are we doing here?

[Archie looks momentarily horrified, drops Horatio’s arm as though it burned him, then recovers and affects nonchalance. Horatio fails to notice.]

Archie: [Glibly]  
            “Peace, cousin, say no more:  
             And now I will unclasp a secret book,  
             And to your quick-conceiving discontents  
             I'll read you matter deep and dangerous.”

Bookseller: [Hears Archie quoting] Ah, I see we have a devotee of the great Bard himself. We have a number of volumes of Shakespeare over by the window.

Horatio:  Thank you.

Archie: [Marches over to the window, grabs a copy of _King John_ , quickly flips through the pages, finds the relevant passage, and reads]

           “Constance: Thou wear a lion's hide! doff it for shame,  
            And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.  
            Austria: O, that a man should speak those words to me!  
            Bastard: And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.  
            Austria: Thou darest not say so, villain, for thy life.  
            Bastard: And hang a calf's-skin on those recreant limbs.”

[Archie thrusts book in Horatio’s hands while pointing at the passage] “What say you to that?”

Horatio:  [Still angry] I say you’re being remarkably underhanded.

Archie: "How now, Horatio?"

Horatio: It's not enough that you mock my appearance or call me a coward. You then blatantly flaunt your disregard of the very rules that you agreed to.

Archie: [Offended] “I am very sorry, good Horatio.”

Horatio: Are you? Or have you just been waiting for a chance to use that quotation? I've been the butt of this joke long enough for one day.

Archie: [Angry] 

           “Fair, kind, and true, is all my argument,  
           Fair, kind, and true, varying to other words;  
           And in this change is my invention spent.”

Horatio: Or perhaps your invention is taking over where Shakespeare left off. Some of these quotations are much too convenient. Shakespeare really wrote of Dover? I know you don’t give a damn about rules or propriety, but this has gone too far.

Archie: [Deeply hurt] “Et tu, Brute?”

Horatio: You avoid me for weeks, for _WEEKS_ , Archie, and then mock me when you finally deign to spend time with me? Is that all I am to you now? A joke?

Archie: [Shocked and entirely honest] 

          “The dearest friend to me, the kindest man,  
           The best conditioned and unwearied spirit  
           In doing courtesies, and one in whom  
           The ancient Roman honor more appears  
           Than any that draws breath."

Horatio: I find that hard to believe.

Archie: [Desperate, insistent, and upset]

           “If this be error and upon me proved,  
           I never writ, nor no man . . .” [He freezes, and his eyes widen]

Horatio: [Confused] . . . Archie?

Archie: [Panicked]

         “In the south suburbs, at the Elephant,  
          Is best to lodge. I will bespeak our diet,  
          Whiles you beguile the time and feed your knowledge  
          With viewing of the town.”

[Exit Archie, quickly, without looking back]

Horatio: [Calling after him]  Archie? What are you . . . ? Archie!  Where are you going?

[End Act 2]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to “Curse of Monkey Island” for “We’ll surely avoid scurvy if we all eat an orange.” 
> 
> Thanks also to a Horatio Hornblower reddit discussion (https://www.reddit.com/r/Tallships/comments/2dzju2/discuss_hornblowers_examination_question/) and IMDB (http://m.imdb.com/title/tt0194947/goofs) for raising some issues with the question Horatio can’t answer on his lieutenant exam (and that Horatio asks Archie here).


	3. Panic in Portsmouth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Archie has a panic attack/brief dissociative episode in this chapter. Skip the opening of this chapter if that will be difficult for you to read.

_\--[Exit, pursued by a bear]_

  _Oh no. Oh dear God, what had he done? How had this happened? How could he have told him? Oh God, he knew! Damn. Damn damn DAMN._

Archie couldn’t think: his mind was spinning like a ship’s wheel with a burned-off tiller rope. The rushing noise in his ears drowned out every sound and thought. The room was shrinking. He felt sick. He couldn’t breathe. He needed air. Where was the exit? He had to escape before it was too late. He walked towards the door, threw it open, and rushed into the street. Where could he go? Oh God, there were people everywhere. Nowhere was safe. Simpson would find him. He knew. No way out. No. NO!

Archie blinked. His knees were cold. His shoulder throbbed. Why did his throat feel on fire? His mouth tasted disgusting, and his stomach . . . well, best not to think about that. Where was he? Where was Horatio?

Archie lifted his head from his forearms and took in his surroundings. He was in an alleyway, apparently. No one else was in sight. He was huddled in a ball, his knees to the ground in a puddle, leaving tell-tale muddied patches on his uniform where it was serving as a towel. That explained the damp chill. At least he hadn’t awakened in a pile of his own sick. It seemed as though he’d had the presence of mind to empty his stomach off to his left while in his automaton state. His body felt sore, but not as though each muscle were screaming in agony, so he had escaped a full-fledged fit. Archie sighed and ran a hand over his face. Oh damn. His face was wet. Well done, Archie. What a paragon of maturity. The navy should be proud.

Why was he here? And where the hell was Horatio? One minute they were at the booksellers, and the next---he prodded gingerly at the memory, and the painful details came flooding back. He had confessed his love to Horatio. After grievously offending him. Archie dropped his head into his hands and bit back on the urge to scream. Of all the the contemptible, worthless--Archie cut himself off. He could berate himself later. First, he needed to get off the ground. It wasn’t as though anyone would come to help him.

Archie shakily pushed himself to his feet and stood, wobbling precariously. Good God, he felt as weak as a newborn kitten! He stumbled over to the brick wall and leaned against it, breathing heavily. Perhaps he would rest awhile here before venturing back into the street. Archie wiped his mouth and brushed the worst of the grime off his breeches. His hands were still shaking. He closed his eyes and counted to five while exhaling slowly.  

Archie wasn’t sure which was worse—the panic, or finding himself in new surroundings with the previous moments clouded by fog. He never knew what surprises awaited him when he took inventory of himself. This time, he had bruised his shoulder, judging from its insistent ache. What had he run into? Or what had run into him? He supposed it hardly mattered. It wouldn't change his current predicament.

But still, it was absurd that his mind was Brutus to his Caesar! Simpson was dead, and it was an affront that he, who had survived active naval engagement, would be running to heave the contents of his stomach into the nearest alley and wiping his mind’s slate of the intervening details because of mere conversation. Words were his life’s blood: it seemed cruel that they were also his hamartia. Archie huffed out a bitter laugh. Horatio would say he was being overly dramatic again.

Ah, yes. Horatio. He knew his mind would return to that course eventually: it never had to travel far to bring him to the fore. Well, Archie had outdone himself this time. He had reached a new level of debasement: he had already forced Horatio to club him like an animal to silence him when his fits endangered a mission, and to remind him of his duty to King and country when he was too weak to want to live. But those embarrassments seemed mere trifles compared with his latest blunder. What a disgrace. Horatio must regret having ever encouraged Archie to recover and return to the _Indy_. At least Archie hadn't seen Horatio’s face when he discovered the truth. The hatred and distrust he elicited in others were painful enough; he couldn't bear to see them in his friend's eyes. But he was only postponing the inevitable. He should have known he would drive away the only person who mattered. And who would look after Horatio now? Why had he been so selfish? If he hadn't wished for the impossible, he wouldn't be in this mess. At least no one else had heard. At least Simpson couldn't hurt him, or worse, hurt Horatio.

But perhaps all was not lost. Perhaps Horatio, so much better with naval tactics and trigonometry than human interactions or emotions, had somehow not understood. He had failed to notice that Archie was starving himself until it was almost too late. If Horatio was unable to recognize someone wasting away before his eyes, perhaps he had overlooked Archie’s accidental declaration. It was possible. Improbable, but possible.

But surely everyone--even Horatio--knew that sonnet! And even if he didn’t, what else would pair with “proved” but “loved”? And his manner of exit surely must have resolved any lingering doubts Horatio had about his friend’s illicit desires.

What should he do now? He supposed he should make his way to the Elephant once his legs could fully hold his weight. He had a vague sense that he had agreed to book their room. Would Horatio want him to honor that promise? Better to go ahead than to risk leaving Horatio wandering the streets seeking accommodations. He would leave the room for Horatio and wander the streets himself. He would look out for Horatio for as long as his former friend would let him.

He couldn't do anything more from this filthy sanctuary. Nothing for it but to wait and see how it would play out. Archie pushed off the wall, relieved that his legs’ protestations had quieted. He checked his hands: their tremors were almost imperceptible now. Archie first ran them through his fringe to tame it, then rubbed them roughly over his face as though to scrub the last half hour out of existence. He filled in the chinks of his façade with the best mortar his spirit could muster, and headed back towards Main Street.

***

Archie found himself inside the Elephant and made his way over to Ellen Forester, the proprietor of the establishment.

“Why, if it isn't Mr. Kennedy!” she exclaimed.  “Bless me, it’s been an age! We had given you up for dead these many years! Our evenings have been sadly quieter without your presence, sir! Glad to have you back! What will it be tonight, then? A room and supper? How about a drink? It’ll be on the house, but just this once! We wouldn't want all the sailors in Portsmouth to be jealous of our favorite patron!”

“My humble thanks,” Archie managed to say with a nod.

“Certainly, sir! Take a seat! You look like you’re well near falling into one! You’re as white as a sheet!” she exclaimed as she poured his drink, concern etched into her features. “Here you are, Mr. Kennedy--oh, begging your pardon--Lieutenant Kennedy now, I see, and here’s your key.” “We’ll bring your food in just a tick.”

“Thank you, madam,” Archie said with the broadest smile he could muster. Judging from the pitying look on Mrs. Forester’s face, it needed some work.

Archie weaved his way through the crowded tavern and collapsed into an open seat. Thank goodness he had hardly needed to speak: it seemed as though past kindness had reaped its present reward. Well, he would talk with her more in the morning to make up for his laconic behavior tonight.

And on the subject of speech, what had he just said to her? Archie reviewed their conversation, and discovered he had continued quoting Shakespeare: _Cymbeline_ and _Two Gentlemen of Verona,_ to be precise. Well, that was unexpected. At least, if Horatio did appear, Archie could say with perfect sincerity that he had kept his side of the wager. If only that were likely. Archie sighed. As he had nowhere else to go, he sat, waited, and nursed his beer, bruised shoulder, and battered pride.


	4. Regret and Resolutions

_\--A halting sonnet of his own pure brain_

 Horatio was left staring at where his friend had been, still holding _King John_ , as the door jangled and clicked shut. He sighed and ran a hand slowly over his face. He had finally broached the subject of his friend’s distant behavior. But he had done so by accusing Archie of cheating, of lacking moral integrity, and even of holding their friendship cheap.

What had possessed him to say such things? Obviously they were entirely false! Archie was Horatio’s first true friend! Archie had taught him the ways of the navy! Archie had made him laugh despite the seasickness and loneliness. Archie had helped him to eat and walk again after the week he had spent in El Ferrol’s oubliette had nearly driven him mad. Archie himself had endured that particular torture far longer, yet nonetheless had agreed to return to the prison to honor Horatio’s own parole. And only a fortnight ago, when Horatio was too weak with grief to save himself, Archie had overcome his panic and raced a burning fuse to bring him back.

Archie had saved his life a hundredfold, and was the most honorable, brave, and loyal friend imaginable. Why, Archie was—

Horatio abruptly realized he was still standing in the bookseller’s, smiling and staring into nothingness. He glanced around quickly and was relieved to find himself alone. No one else had been privy to this momentary lapse. He needed to better control his thoughts before he lost another half-hour daydreaming about things that would never come to pass. Especially not now that he had ruined their friendship with his callous insults. It was difficult to imagine a worse tactic for that conversation– he had succeeded only in widening the gap between them. His behavior had been entirely unbecoming of an officer, much less a friend.

Horatio resolved to make amends. Archie had mentioned meeting him at Elephant, despite their argument, so at least he would have that chance to apologize. But mere words would not be enough . . . Horatio paused. Or perhaps they would. He grinned. This might do nicely.

Horatio walked over to the counter and rang the bell. The shop owner appeared instantly, although his face fell slightly when he saw that Horatio was alone.

“Yes, sir? How can I help you?”

Horatio suddenly felt out of his depth: poetry was Archie’s realm, not his. But, if he could fight against the Frogs, then he could damn well manage to buy a book.

“Which of Shakespeare’s plays would you recommend as a gift to patch up a quarrel?”

The bookseller smiled knowingly. “Ah, for that I’d recommend the sonnets. Your friend seemed particularly fond of them.”

“Oh?” replied Horatio.

“Yes sir. I believe I heard Sonnet 116, at least. A beautiful poem.” The bookseller seemed amused, though Horatio could not guess why. “We just received an edition of the Sonnets this week: lovely binding, isn’t it? Durable and small, too: elegant, but sturdy enough to carry about your person. And, of course, very popular with the _ladies_.” The bookseller winked.

Horatio coughed. “Er, I, uh, I doubt my friend has trouble in that regard. But I’m sure he’ll appreciate it nonetheless. How much?”

***

Horatio left the shop, his purse and heart lighter than they had been that morning. He had no regrets on having spent most of his remaining prize money on this book. With one purchase, he had solved two problems: he would make amends for his earlier foolishness and, at the same time, demonstrate his own interest in Shakespeare. Perhaps if Horatio memorized a line or two himself, they could have a good laugh about it. He could mollify his friend, return them to their earlier companionship, and end the evening in high spirits. Yes, this was an excellent plan.

Horatio carefully removed the book from its brown paper packaging as he walked down the street. Sonnet 116, the bookseller had said? That seemed as good a place to start as any. He found the page in question, and read it from the beginning:

           Let me not to the marriage of true minds  
           Admit impediments. Love is not love  
           Which alters when it alteration finds,  
           Or bends with the remover to remove:  
           O no; it is an ever-fixed mark,  
           That looks on tempests, and is never shaken;  
           It is the star to every wandering bark,  
           Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.  
           Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks  
           Within his bending sickle's compass come;  
           Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,  
           But bears it out even to the edge of doom.  
           If this be error and upon me proved,  
           I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

Horatio nearly dropped his new book in the mud.

Archie had been reciting love poetry to him. And, now that he thought of it, his friend had cut himself off and run from the store mere words before the end, almost as if . . . he feared to reveal it? Could Archie have been trying to say that he—

No, that was absurd. Probably, in his anger at Horatio, Archie had simply forgotten the rest of the line. Or perhaps he had remembered Horatio’s anger at being compared to Adonis. Possibly even he—

_Archie had called him as beautiful as Adonis._

Horatio stopped that line of inquiry again. It was impossible to think that Archie could return his affections, and taunting himself with false hope would get him nowhere. He had learned that long ago. Horatio sighed and tried to approach the issue at hand with a clear head.

Best to focus on the facts of the situation:

  1.     He had been a complete ass to Archie and driven him away.
  2.     He needed to make amends now, lest his behavior ruin their entire shore leave.
  3.     He had apparently purchased a volume of love poems as an apology.



Oh God.

Horatio recalled his earlier plan of reciting Shakespeare to Archie to cheer him up, but could only envision himself stammering, blushing, or both. Horatio did not relish the prospect.

But reciting or not, he still needed to give the book to Archie. After all, it was clear that Archie had meant nothing by his choice of text. And, naturally, Archie would assume that Horatio meant nothing by it either.

Having reached a decision, Horatio made his way to the Inn.

***

As the familiar scents of the Elephant Inn washed over him, Horatio looked around for his friend. He half-expected to hear Archie’s voice echoing through the hall as he entertained his audience with bawdy songs and tales of the high seas, but given the distress he had caused, it was unlikely that his friend would be in the mood. Horatio's heart sank when he spotted him sitting alone in a far corner of the room. Archie was staring vacantly into the distance over two tankards and a plate of untouched supper. He must have been even more hurt by Horatio's words than he had previously thought.

At least he had experience in bringing Archie back to himself when he became this removed from his surroundings. Horatio had learned that it required walking a fine line. Always approach from the front, at a casual pace – not so fast as to seem threatening but not so slow as to be overlooked. Let your footfalls be heard on the approach – again, not so forceful that they might disturb, but loud enough that your presence would not be a surprise. Stop at a distance near enough that a calm greeting could be heard, but out of range of physical contact. Say his name calmly but insistently, as many times as needed.

Moving carefully, Horatio threaded his way between the tables to stand in front of his friend, who did not appear to notice his presence. He took a seat opposite Archie and quietly called him by name.

Archie’s eyes focused slightly as he came back to himself, and for one brief moment he looked so wretched that Horatio nearly reached out to comfort him. Before he could react, the dejection vanished, replaced first by a flash of astonishment, then by one of the broadest smiles Horatio had ever seen as Archie registered his friend’s presence.

Horatio had thought himself mostly inured to Archie’s various expressions after all this time, and indeed, these days his pulse barely stuttered when Archie grinned. But nothing could have prepared him for the unguarded pleasure that shone through as Archie beamed at him.

Archie: “Horatio!!! I am very glad to see you!”  
            “Right joyous are we to behold your face,  
            Most worthy brother England; fairly met!”

Horatio realized his friend was completely drunk.

Horatio: I’m glad to see you as well. I am sorry I gave you reason to doubt my joining you. My comments earlier were unpardonable, and I--

Archie: [interrupting] “‘Tis no matter. Here's a pot of good double beer, neighbour: drink!” [He hands Horatio a tankard]

Horatio: Thank you, but first I want to say -- [He picks up the tankard, looks surprised at its lack of heft, and peers inside.] Archie, this is half empty! You’ve drunk my share as well as yours?

Archie: “Half a share!”

Horatio: [Rolls eyes] Yes, very well, half of my share. You’re quibbling.

Archie: “Believe my words,  
            For they are certain and unfallible.”

Horatio: And Shakespearian.

Archie: “Ay, sir, I have a pretty wit.” [He waggles his eyebrows]

Horatio: [Blushes] Er, yes. Quite. But were you actually able to acquire rooms for the night, despite this impediment? Surely limiting your speech would have made this impossible!

Archie: [Grins] “Not so, my liege: this lodging likes me better!”

Horatio: Well, I’m pleased to hear it. You’ve always been able to talk your way out of any situation. [He raises his tankard] Here’s to your charmed tongue!

Archie: [Suddenly breaks off eye contact and looks despondently at his nearly-empty ale]

Horatio: [Concerned] Archie, what is it?

Archie: [Spoken quietly in a strange, emotionally numb, disconnected voice]

            “I could a tale unfold whose lightest word  
            Would harrow up thy soul, freeze thy young blood,  
            Make thy two eyes, like stars, start from their spheres,  
            Thy knotted and combined locks to part  
            And each particular hair to stand on end,  
            Like quills upon the fretful porpentine.”

Horatio: What? Why are you . . .?  OH! Oh, God. Archie, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of the past by implying you led a charmed existence! I didn’t think of--

Archie: [interrupting]

          “the whips and scorns of time,  
           The oppressor’s wrong, the proud man’s contumely,  
           The pangs of disprized love, the law’s delay,  
           The insolence of office, and the spurns  
           That patient merit of the unworthy takes?”

Horatio:  Archie, I know you have been through hell and back. I admire your courage in carrying on, despite it all. But every day that passes puts those cursed midshipman days further behind us. You are a lieutenant now! The new midshipmen will look up to you as your own ratings already do, and we will rise through the ranks together, with all that horror long forgotten.

Archie: [Sadly]

          “Let those who are in favour with their stars,  
           Of public honour and proud titles boast,  
           Whilst I, whom fortune of such triumph bars,  
           Unlook'd for joy in that I honour most.  
           Great princes' favourites their fair leaves spread  
           But as the marigold at the sun's eye;  
           And in themselves their pride lies buried,  
           For at a frown they in their glory die.  
           The painful warrior famoused for worth,  
           After a thousand victories once foil'd,  
           Is from the book of honour razed quite,  
           And all the rest forgot for which he toil'd--”

[Archie seems like he is about to continue, then suddenly looks impossibly sadder, sighs, and remains silent.]

Horatio: [Gently takes Archie’s tankard away] Archie, I think you’ve had enough.

Archie: [Depressedly petulant] “I have drunk but one cup to-night.”

Horatio: Technically, one and a half, as you yourself have said.

Archie: “Dost thou think, because thou art virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?”

Horatio: Ale, no. Cakes, possibly. Virtuous? Well, that’s another conversation entirely.

Archie: [Looks at Horatio for the first time in minutes] “Thy self thy foe, to thy sweet self too cruel.”

Horatio: [Sad smile] Hardly.

Archie: “Why, how now! wherefore are you sad?”

Horatio: For the obvious reason that I have injured you twice today! I sometimes wonder why you find me worth the trouble.

Archie: “No more be griev’d by that which thou hast done:  
             Roses have thorns, and silver fountains mud.  
             Clouds and eclipses stain both moon and sun,  
             And loathsome canker lives in sweetest bud.  
             All men make faults.” [He grabs Horatio’s tankard and takes a swig.]

Horatio: Thank you, but I don’t merit such understanding. You’d be better off without me.

Archie: [Hesitates, then comes to a decision, putting tankard down on the table, leaning forward, putting one hand on top of Horatio’s, and looking directly into Horatio’s eyes]

          “When to the sessions of sweet silent thought  
          I summon up remembrance of things past,  
          I sigh the lack of many a thing I sought,  
          And with old woes new wail my dear time's waste:  
          Then can I drown an eye, unus'd to flow,  
          For precious friends hid in death's dateless night,  
          And weep afresh love's long since cancell'd woe,  
          And moan the expense of many a vanish'd sight:  
          Then can I grieve at grievances foregone,  
          And heavily from woe to woe tell o'er  
          The sad account of fore-bemoaned moan,  
          Which I new pay as if not paid before.  
          But if the while I think on thee, dear friend,  
          All losses are restor'd and sorrows end.”

Horatio: [Stunned] Archie, I . . .You . . . That is . . . [clears throat] Th . . . thank you. I . . . am honored to . . . serve with you.

Archie:  [Bemused smile] “And I am glad of it with all my heart.”

[They stare intensely at each other for a long, loaded moment, then Archie removes his hand to pick up and drain his--well, technically Horatio’s--tankard.]

Archie: “Ah, sirrah, by my fay, it waxes late: I'll to my rest.”  “Good night, sweet friend.” [He smiles, gets up unsteadily and walks upstairs to their rooms, patting Horatio’s shoulder as he walks past.]


	5. Tossed Upon the Tides

_\--When sorrows come, they come not single spies, but in battalions_

 Archie tottered up to their room and closed the door behind him: Exit Archie, end of scene, he thought giddily. He looked at his right hand and smiled: it still remembered the feel of his friend’s hand and uniform. Such “eloquence in a sugar touch!” What a pleasant sensation! This evening had certainly ended surprisingly well, he thought, giggling to himself. Against all odds, Horatio had come back to him, forgiven him, and hadn’t repelled his flirtatious advances! And Horatio had tried, in his own stilted way, to say that he cared deeply for Archie! This might have a happier resolution than he had ever let himself imagine! He felt remarkably content, the warmth of the alcohol wrapped around him like a thick cloak, keeping everything else at bay.

Suddenly, everything ground to a halt. Archie stilled as the full weight of his actions crashed upon him. He had flirted. With HORATIO! And in public, no less! Had he taken leave of his senses? In one moment, he had undone all his previous efforts and endangered the only person who truly mattered to him. Archie crossed over to the bed, flopped down upon it, and lay on his back, his hands covering his face. His only task had been to keep Horatio from discovering his affections. And what had he done? He had told Horatio exactly how he felt! He had never excelled at taking orders from others, but he had hoped he could at least take them from himself on occasion. Archie groaned as the vivid details of his actions this evening flooded his mind. The pleasant sense of warmth was rapidly seeping away, replaced by cold dread.

As if his flirtation hadn't been humiliating enough, his wildly fluctuating emotions had been “To one thing constant never” over the past hour. His response to Horatio’s harmless comment about the lodging had been mortifying. On his better days, Archie knew that Horatio meant nothing by such unthinking remarks, but this evening, he had felt too raw and exposed to shore up his resilience.

His self-pitying quotation of Sonnet 25 had certainly gone too far. Good God, what had he been thinking? Certainly, “fortune” had and always would “bar” him from “triumph,” but he usually tried to avoid mentioning that around Horatio. Horatio disliked being reminded that his friend was a failure as a naval officer. Archie buried his face in his pillow as he remembered the poem’s final couplet: “Then happy I, that love and am beloved / Where I may not remove nor be removed.” How fortunate for Shakespeare, to have felt so secure in his lover’s affections, at least in this sonnet, Archie thought with a scowl. Well, there was no point in being bitter: that was poetry, not his life, no matter how much he tried to bring them together.

How could he have let himself believe, even for a moment, that Horatio reciprocated? Granted, Horatio had seemed deeply moved. And, for his emotionally ignorant friend, an expression such as “I am honored to serve with you” was as profound a statement of affection as he might ever hear. But it was just friendship, nothing more. Horatio had either politely rejected him, while reassuring him of their friendly regard and reminding him of their duty to the navy, or taken Archie at his word when he had called him “dear friend” and thought this merely an homage to their friendship. Oh blast: “take thee at thy word” was from Romeo and Juliet’s balcony scene. That was an ill omen for their future.

Archie shook his head. He was being ridiculous yet again. All that mattered was that Horatio had returned to him, hadn’t thrown him to the street when Archie flirted with him--Archie cringed again in mortification at the memory--and had shown interest in continuing their friendship. He had no right to wish for more, and since wishing clearly led to disaster, he would just have to redouble his efforts to give up hope.

Archie took a deep breath, then sat up, relieved to note that the world had stopped spinning. He dragged himself across their small room to prepare for bed, his mind only half on his task, as he considered the lateness of the hour. Horatio hadn’t yet come upstairs. Had he finally driven his closest friend away? There was no way to know, and nothing to do but wait. Archie was loath to try and sleep: he knew it would be futile until he had more information, and waiting in the bed for something that might never happen seemed equally unbearable. He walked over to the window and threw himself into the chair in front of it. He watched the people outside, carrying on with their lives. He watched for Horatio, to see if his friend was likewise walking away. God, he was tired.


	6. Research and Revelations

_\--Though this be madness, yet there is method in 't_

 Horatio stared at the spot Archie had recently vacated. Huh. This was unexpected. Horatio wasn’t sure how he ought to react. On the one hand, it certainly sounded as though Archie had just admitted to . . . that is to say, Archie had strongly implied that certain feelings he had could be construed as . . . that is, Archie . . . might love him.

On the other hand, this was preposterous and impossible.

Hands. Hmmm. His hand still felt warm from where Archie’s hand had lain on his. Such a gesture would seem to indicate that…

He was getting ahead of himself. He reached for the book of Sonnets. Perhaps it was fortuitous that Archie had interrupted his apology so he had not yet had the chance to gift him the volume.

Horatio flipped through the pages until he found the sonnet Archie had recited before his departure. He cast his eyes over the poem, and when he reached the final couplet, he looked up from the book and stared into the distance again.

Did he really have such an effect on Archie that thoughts of him were enough to sustain him through any hardship? That certainly hadn't been true in El Ferrol: Archie had nearly died because of him. It must have been mere hyperbole. Archie was trying to assuage Horatio’s guilt.

But Archie had seemed so sincere as he recited! It had looked as though he had been speaking words drawn from his very soul!

Horatio scoffed at himself: “his very soul”? His friend’s flowery rhetoric must be rubbing off on him. He’d never get anywhere if he couldn’t maintain an objective outlook. What would Captain Pellew do? Horatio shook his head again. The great naval hero, in love with a fellow officer? Impossible.

Horatio started over. The sonnet from the bookseller’s suggested that Archie returned his feelings. This more recent sonnet was inconclusive, but seemed more likely to confirm his suspicions than not. Ah, there had been another sonnet, though. Something about favors and stars. Perhaps that would provide more insight.

Horatio flipped back and forth until he found the poem. It seemed Archie had left off the end again. It read:

           Then happy I, that love and am beloved  
           Where I may not remove nor be removed.

This was puzzling. Did Archie already have a sweetheart? He had never mentioned one, though come to think of it, the only time Horatio had asked, Archie had fainted from starvation before he could answer. Horatio suppressed a stab of jealousy. But if Archie did have someone, why omit those final lines? And why had he seemed so morose about it?

Horatio sighed, and closed the book in frustration. This was proving more difficult than anticipated.

But on the subject of sweethearts, Archie had seemed . . . not himself, since Mariette’s death. At first, Archie had sat by his side, comforting him as he unmanned himself, but in the following days he’d grown increasingly distant. Horatio had feared that Archie thought less of him for being so affected by the death of someone he had known so briefly.

But then again, Archie had raced across a burning bridge to save him without hesitation or a thought for his own safety, despite having panicked during an earlier exchange of fire at the bridge. Had Horatio himself been the difference? This evidence would seem to support his initial theory. And Archie had certainly seemed pleased to see him tonight. _Very_ pleased, Horatio thought, as an absent-minded smile spread across his face. He shook his head to clear it and refocused on his task. Where was he? Ah, yes. At least two of the sonnets Archie had recited since the afternoon appeared to corroborate these findings. Was it really possible?

Even if Archie did lo--. . . return his affections, what right had Horatio to endanger both their lives? What he imagined was a capital offense according to the Articles of War! He couldn't risk it. Archie had already survived so much: prison, torture, epilepsy . . . and Simpson. It was strange, Horatio thought, that Archie had never spoken of his time on the Justinian. He had assumed Archie had received the vicious beatings and humiliation experienced by all midshipman unlucky enough to be on that vessel, but the persistence of Archie’s nightmares made him question that assumption. Horatio frowned; no point speculating on something Archie did not wish to disclose. The important detail was that, after all that hardship, surely Archie deserved happiness.

And if Archie thought that Horatio could provide that happiness, then why should Horatio deny what they both desired?

It was decided, then. He would talk with Archie about this. He hoped it would go more smoothly than their earlier conversation. “Honored to serve with you?” Horatio flinched at the memory. He doubted his fumbling language would endear him to a devotee of the Bard. Well, it was time to show Archie that he, too, could woo with words. Hardly believing what he had talked himself into, Horatio ordered another pint of ale (well, technically his first), and then opened the little book again. He would need some liquid courage to come up with a strategy.


	7. The Elephant in the Room at the Elephant

_\--Lord, what fools these mortals be!_

 Two hours later, Horatio cautiously opened the door to the room Archie had arranged for them, and was relieved to see that his friend was still up, sitting in front of the window with his back to the door. There was still time to discuss their earlier conversation.

The door hinges creaked, and Horatio saw Archie jerk slightly and rub at his eyes before turning around to face Horatio with a faint smile. Perhaps he had fallen asleep at the window? “Ah, Horatio!” Archie greeted him, his voice unusually raspy (Horatio hoped he hadn’t caught cold). “I see you’ve finally decided to retire for the night.”

Horatio nodded as he stepped into the room, pleased to see Archie looking less drunk, though his eyes still looked bloodshot. “And you’ve stopped quoting, I see!” he responded with a smile.

Archie shrugged. “The six hours were up. It seemed the thing to do,” he said, looking somewhere over Horatio’s shoulder. “I wouldn't want to submit you to any more torture.”

It seemed Archie was determined to return to his distant attitude from the previous week. Clearly, Horatio needed to draw him out. Time for Plan A. He tried to smile innocently. “Oh, no torture, I assure you! I’ve learned a great deal today. I had no idea Shakespeare was so versatile. You had a quotation for every occasion memorized, even when you were three sheets to the wind!”  
  
Archie’s hand flew up to rest on the back of his neck as he stared at the floor. “Ah. Yes. About that,” he said, haltingly. “. . . I think I became a bit . . . overzealous in my devotion to Shakespeare's sonnets at the end. . .” He trailed off and scratched his head. “Shall we just pretend that final hour never happened?”

Hmm. Not the reaction he had hoped for. Time for Plan B, then. “You have nothing to reproach yourself for!” Horatio insisted. “Those are admirable poems, and I enjoyed the evening and your recitations. And you won the wager, fair and square. Dinner tomorrow will be at my expense.” There, thought Horatio. He’d conceded the wager. That should cheer his friend up.

But Archie merely cast a brittle half-smile in Horatio’s direction, his hand returning to his side, before looking away again. “Well, I’m glad to hear it. If you don’t mind, though, would you blow out the candle? I should sleep. The alcohol has mostly worn off and it's been a long day.”

Damn. Plan B had failed, and Archie’s deliberate end to the conversation ruined plans C through E as well. But he wasn’t quite out of options yet! Plan F it was.

“Of course!” Horatio said. “First, let me prepare for bed.” He walked over to the small desk near Archie and put his new hat and the Sonnets down on its surface before walking to the other side of the room to change.

Horatio kept his back towards Archie as he removed his shoes and stockings and tried not to bounce on the balls of his feet with anticipation as he waited for Archie to take the bait. For a moment, he heard nothing but silence, until finally he heard the rustle of Archie’s nightclothes as curiosity got the better of him and he reached for the desk.

“Why, what's this?” Horatio heard Archie exclaim with surprise and no small degree of amusement. “Horatio Hornblower with a book that's not _His Majesty’s Guide to Navigation and Seamanship_? Will wonders never cease? Who are you trying to impress?”

Horatio turned around to see Archie, still smirking, pick up the book, look at its spine, and then become very still, the smile falling off his face. “. . . oh. . . Sh. . . Shakespeare’s sonnets. An interesting choice.” Archie cleared his throat and stared out the window, “How long have you had this?”

“I bought it this afternoon at the bookshop after you left,” Horatio said cheerfully. “It's made for some very interesting reading.” Horatio had assumed that Archie would express enthusiasm for the new edition, or his appreciation for the binding. Instead, Archie looked at his hands, muttering something Horatio couldn’t quite catch. This was a poor start.

Archie shook his head slightly before saying, more audibly this time, “Have you . . . found any sonnets particularly informative?”

Ah yes. Now Horatio could show off his newfound knowledge of Shakespeare. He had anticipated this question. Horatio preened as he answered, “Well, I spent particular time on Sonnets 116, 30, 25, and 35, but I’ve found another that is equally engaging.”

To Horatio’s surprise, Archie had become more rigid and pale with every number. “Horatio. . . . I . . . what. . . .?” he stuttered.

Horatio crossed the room to stand in front of his friend. “I think you’ll enjoy it,” he reassured him. This wasn’t going to plan. Archie wasn’t supposed to look concerned. But fortunately, once Archie had seen the sonnet, he would understand. “Just read it, please. Out loud. You’re a far better reader than I,” Horatio entreated. He took the volume of sonnets from Archie's hands, opened it to the correct page, and handed it gently back to Archie.

Archie met Horatio’s eyes, inexplicably looking for all the world like a man facing the gallows, then slowly looked away to focus on the words in front of him. He swallowed, raised his eyebrow inquisitively at Horatio, then began to read, his voice shaking slightly:

         “As an unperfect actor on the stage,  
         Who with his fear is put beside his part,  
         Or some fierce thing replete with too much rage,  
         Whose strength's abundance weakens his own heart;  
         So I, for fear of trust, forget to say  
         The perfect ceremony of love's rite,  
         And in mine own love's strength seem to decay,  
         O'ercharged with burthen of mine own love's might.  
         O! let my looks be then the eloquence  
         And dumb presagers of my speaking breast,  
         Who plead for love, and look for recompense,  
         More than that tongue that more hath more express'd.  
         O! learn to read what silent love hath writ:  
         To hear with eyes belongs to love's fine wit.”

Archie finished reading to resounding silence. He closed his eyes, biting his lip, and stayed perfectly still for several seconds, apart from his chest, which was shallowly but rapidly rising and falling. Slowly, Archie closed the book and opened his eyes, staring at his rapidly-whitening knuckles instead of at Horatio.

“. . . Archie?” Horatio faltered.

Archie still seemed frozen in place. As the silence grew longer, Horatio began to fear that he had dangerously miscalculated.

“Horatio,” Archie finally responded, his voice barely audible, “Why did you choose that sonnet?”

“Once I understood why you had chosen your sonnets, it only made sense to reply in kind.”

“Believe me, Horatio, you have no idea why I chose those sonnets,” Archie muttered darkly.

“I thought it was because you’re in love with me!” Horatio blurted out.

There was a long silence.

“Are you mocking me?” Archie demanded.

Horatio was utterly flabbergasted. “What? No! Of course not!”

Archie furrowed his brow with confusion. “Then . . . you’re in earnest?” he asked slowly.

“Entirely in earnest” Horatio insisted.

“But what about the Articles?” Archie argued. “Horatio, you can't mean this!”

“I can and I do! Hang the Articles!”

A muscle below Archie’s right eye twitched involuntarily, the only outward indicator of his thoughts. Horatio looked at him in confusion, waiting for a more telling response. Archie took pity on him and skeptically raised an eyebrow. Horatio knew that look well. What had he said this time? Horatio reviewed his last sentence, his eyes widening with sudden realization.

“Er. Right. Um. _Forget_ the articles,” he grimaced. “This is why I tried to have Shakespeare speak for me.” Horatio abruptly realized that he was in parade rest and put his arms back by his sides. Damn. He cleared his throat and tried again. “I meant that I have already thought this through and I have determined that it is worth the risk.” He cringed inwardly. He was sure that had come out as more imperious than he had intended.

“Horatio, this is impossible! I will never do anything to jeopardize your well-being,” Archie shot back. “How can you think that I would risk your life for my own pleasure?” he finished, the final words delivered in a harsh whisper.

“I believe you’d find me a willing participant,” Horatio countered.

Archie rolled his eyes. “Horatio, you know that's not what I meant! It’s too dangerous.”

“Our lives are dangerous: any day could be our last. I would never ask you to risk yourself for me, but for myself, I would rather take a chance at happiness than be cautious and regret it for the rest of our--possibly short--lives.”

Archie stared at Horatio and seemed to be mulling it over. “That's morbid,” Archie said after a pause.

Horatio nodded. “It’s also true,” he replied, waiting for a better sense of Archie’s thoughts.

Archie sighed. “Why the sudden investment in carpe diem?”

“You spent the better part of five hours reciting love poetry to me.” Horatio responded, his eyes narrowed in confusion as he looked for the catch.

Archie huffed out a laugh and ran a hand through his hair as he looked at the ground. “Fair point.” After a few seconds, he lifted his head up and turned to look at Horatio. “When did you catch on?”

This was an encouraging development, Horatio thought, as he sat down in a chair beside Archie. “Your recitation of Sonnet 116 provided the first clue, but I wasn't sure until the Inn tonight,” he responded with a smile.

To Horatio’s chagrin, Archie flushed and looked away again. “Neither of those are moments I am particularly proud of.”

Fortunately, Horatio knew how to head off this type of bleak mood before it spiraled out of hand. He nudged Archie's shoulder with his own. “I think running away is still better than responding with a jumbled ‘it’s an honor to serve with you.’”

Horatio was rewarded with a faint chuckle, and he was pleased to see some of the tension leave Archie’s frame as their eyes met again. “It could have been more effusive, I'll grant you that,” Archie replied. “I couldn't figure out if you were politely warning me off or utterly ignorant of the implications.”

Horatio’s brow furrowed. “You didn't list ‘reciprocated but utterly failed to have his friend's skill with the English language.’”

“I hardly thought it a possibility. After all, you're Horatio Hornblower! The navy’s rising star! The admiralty's darling who will make post-captain before the age of 30!” Archie exclaimed, gesturing at Horatio. Then he paused, before continuing in a more subdued manner, “The man who mourned so deeply for a woman that he almost let himself be blown to bits. What was I supposed to think? I had no reason to believe you returned my affections, and why would you, if you've heard a tenth of the gossip about me on the ship?”

Ah. So that was the problem. Horatio could fix this. He had only to choose his words very carefully. He turned to face Archie, who looked genuinely confused, and took a deep breath. “Archie, you must believe that nothing could make me think less of you,” Horatio insisted. “I have seen your bravery and courage on the battlefield and in the prison. I respected you from the moment we met on the Justinian, and I have . . . cared for you nearly as long,” he finished more quietly, suddenly self-conscious. “And we share a career, so we can rise through the ranks side by side on the same ship! We will find a way, Archie!”

Archie was blinking rapidly by the time Horatio finished. For a moment, Horatio was worried he’d just sent his dearest friend into the beginnings of a fit--God, had his speech truly been that dreadful?--before he heard a quiet sniffle and noticed that Archie’s eyes looked suspiciously moist.

Archie swallowed and cleared his throat, before giving Horatio a watery crooked smile. “I thought you said you needed Shakespeare's help with words. That went remarkably well.”

It had, hadn’t it. _Well done, Horatio. The art of romance may be in your grasp yet_. “I am a fairly quick learner, I suppose,” he replied with a grin.

Archie's eyes sparkled as he leaned towards Horatio. “That will be most convenient, then!” he responded with his customary smirk. “I look forward to seeing what other skills you'll acquire in the next few weeks!”

Horatio felt his cheeks heating up. He hadn’t really thought this far ahead, and his experience thus far was limited to a handful of curious, but not particularly successful kisses. “Um. Yes. About that. You'll have to do most of the . . . uh . . . instruction,” he responded haltingly.

Archie grinned. “It will be my pleasure,” he said with a small bow. “Well, our pleasure, actually,” he corrected. Suddenly, Archie’s jaunty air vanished, concern overtaking everything else. “Just make sure to tell me what you like and dislike. Or to stop if we move too quickly. Or at any point at all. We’ll do only what feels comfortable for you,” Archie said, looking inexplicably serious.

“Of course!” Horatio replied. Surely that was expected. “And the same for you.”

To Horatio’s surprise, Archie seemed wrong-footed by his reply. Instead of nodding or smiling and carrying on with the conversation, he became motionless as a statue, still leaning forward, his expressive face frozen with his wide eyes staring uncomprehendingly at Horatio. Archie always had a witty retort or quotation for every occasion, so why was he suddenly struck dumb? Blast, what did that expression mean? Had Horatio done something wrong? Surely, Archie had expected the offer to be returned! Anything else would be unconscionable! Why would he think—  
  
The truth hit Horatio like a musket ball as he jerked upright with horror. He barely restrained himself from clenching his fists as he realized what must have been happening on the _Justinian_ , all the while he had thought himself the most mistreated midshipman there. It's a pity he hadn't shot Simpson himself.

“Oh God, Archie,” Horatio blurted out, shock overcoming restraint.

Archie recoiled as though Horatio had slapped him, staring at his friend in abject horror. He opened his mouth--to object, to deny, to distract, anything that would remove that look from Horatio’s face--before mortification overcame him and he bowed his head to stare at the knotholes in the aging floor. His eyes fought against the prickling of tears as he endeavoured to hold on to the final shred of his tattered dignity. He swallowed and risked a final glance at Horatio, who was still staring at him like a kicked puppy. He cleared his throat and forced the corners of his mouth upwards into a lopsided smile. “Thank you, Mr. Hornblower. It’s been an honor,” he choked out, before moving to get out of the chair, grab his things, and make a speedy exit.

Archie heard the creaking of Horatio’s chair as he stood up, and the sound of footsteps behind him. “Archie?” he heard Horatio call after him, “What are you doing? Where are you going?”

“What does it look like?” Archie bit out, his resilience wearing thin. “I’m getting my things.” Damn, where had he put his shoes? He could do without his coat. If he moved quickly enough, he could be out the door within the next two minutes. He could probably wait that long before breaking down in tears. God, he hoped so. Why wouldn’t Horatio just let him go in peace?

“I can see that,” Horatio responded from somewhere behind him. “And if you wish to leave, I certainly won't prevent you. But . . . I hope you’ll stay,” he concluded more quietly.

What was Horatio playing at? Was he trying to prolong the torture for them both? Archie snorted with disbelief and shook his head. He paused his frantic search for his possessions and took a minute to collect himself: it wouldn’t do to fall apart here. He thought he could bid his farewell with some dignity, but only if he didn’t turn around and see whatever look was stamped on Horatio’s face. “Horatio, I know you prefer to sacrifice yourself for duty whenever possible, but it’s unnecessary here. Given your recent . . . revelation,” he spat out “you surely wish me far away as soon as possible and are counting yourself fortunate that we did no more than talk. I’m certain I can find another place to stay. Don't worry, I won't impose on you for much longer.” He went back to gathering his belongings. He refused to be another charity case for Horatio’s misplaced sense of duty.

Archie heard a soft, sharp intake of breath. “Archie, how can you say that?” he heard Horatio exclaim. “No matter what happened, it wouldn’t alter my feelings towards you.”

Archie grit his teeth and tried not to scream. As if this weren’t humiliating enough, apparently Horatio was going to make him spell it out. “Really?” he retorted, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’re still interested in Simpson’s molly? Damaged goods?” He swallowed and shook his head. “You deserve better than that, Horatio,” he murmured, his voice almost cracking under the strain. God, he couldn’t even say goodbye properly. Oh hell, where were his stockings?

Archie braced himself for whatever would come next--curses, insults, horrified silence, raised voices--anything was possible. He heard footsteps: it seemed that Horatio was walking to the window to avoid being near him. Well, he couldn’t blame him for that. It was probably for the best. He bowed his head and squeezed his eyes shut to force back the tears that threatened to overwhelm him. Just a minute more.

Archie wasn't prepared for Horatio to appear right in front of him. “Archie, you’re doing yourself a disservice,” Horatio said, with more gentleness than he had heard since El Ferrol. “Anyone who thinks such things is not worth listening to.”

Archie whipped his head up, ready to protest, only to meet his friend’s sincere and impossibly stubborn eyes. It seemed that, somehow, Horatio truly believed what he said. Horatio wasn’t casting him out of his life. To Horatio, this wasn’t the end. He felt that he ought to argue with Horatio, to convince him that he was tainted, that he didn’t deserve him. But he didn’t want to, and was too tired to fight it anymore. He always had been weak. All his objections drained out of him. “Oh, Horatio,” he sighed, with a wry smile. “So determined to see the good in everyone, and damn the consequences.”

An answering smile played fleetingly on Horatio’s lips. “It’s easy to see your goodness, Archie! It shines forth like . . . like a lighthouse in a storm!” he replied.

Archie stared at him, incredulous. That was . . . that was terrible. Was Horatio mocking him? He couldn’t possibly be serious, could he? Archie’s expression must have conveyed that question, because Horatio blushed and gave a little one-shouldered shrug in answer. The whole situation was so absurd that, after a few seconds, both of them began laughing, quietly at first before it racked their entire bodies.

“Horatio,” Archie gasped out, wiping tears of mirth from his eyes, “You should stick with Shakespeare.”

“I know,” Horatio responded weakly, between chuckles. “But it served its purpose.”

“Oh?” Archie asked, his voice more under his command. “And what purpose is that?”

Horatio, no longer laughing, studied Archie, his head tilted to the side. “It convinced you to stay a little longer,” he said simply.

Archie stared at Horatio, eyes narrowed. How could Horatio wish him to stay? He cleared his throat and decided to “screw his courage to the sticking place.” “Horatio,” he asked, hesitantly, “is this really what you want? Despite the danger? Despite your future and my . . . history? It won't be easy.”

Horatio nodded, as seriously as though Captain Pellew himself had asked for a report. “Absolutely.”

Archie frowned. He wasn’t sure Horatio understood. “No one can know,” he continued, “and you’re a terrible liar. And I’m hardly a paragon of stability. Are you sure about this?”

Horatio took a step toward Archie and placed a hand on each shoulder, looking straight into his eyes. “Yes, Archie. I am sure. No matter how many times you ask, I will still be sure. I know it will be a challenge for both of us. But I am willing to do whatever it takes to see it through. Do you still want this?”

That was the most ridiculous question Archie had ever heard. It seemed on par with “do people need to breathe?” or “would you prefer to keep all your limbs?” or “would you like to avoid an epileptic fit today?” He realized that Horatio was actually waiting for his answer, and rolling his eyes was probably not the right move. “Of course,” he responded with a crooked smile, “despite the years I’ve wasted trying to convince myself otherwise.”

Archie’s smile was answered by Horatio’s earnest, eager, face-splitting grin. “Years?” Horatio teased.

“Yes, years, Horatio. Not that your head needed to be any bigger than it already is,” Archie groaned in response. “But, confessions aside, we really should be going to bed soon. I am completely spent.”

"I don't mind at all,” Horatio reassured him immediately, taking a step back. “Where should I sleep? This rug looks comfortable enough, I think.”

Archie’s lips twitched with amusement: Horatio was apparently quite the gentlemen. That would be a pleasant change. "Unless you have some objection, why not share the bed with me as per our usual shore leave arrangement?” Archie paused. He did trust Horatio, but he had to make sure they truly had an understanding about another pressing matter. “But, in all seriousness,” he began again, “would you mind if we postponed our plans for future . . . amorous activities until a later point? After everything that’s happened today, sleep really is all that is on the menu."

"Of course!” Horatio reiterated. “Whatever you wish.”

And with those words, Archie felt a thrill that had been long suppressed suddenly reassert itself. Perhaps he could do this after all. He paused, pursing his lips in thought, then turned to Horatio with a mischievous grin. “Well, actually, I can think of one thing. May I?”

Archie leaned forward, tilting his head until his mouth was mere inches away from Horatio's, and met Horatio’s eyes, waiting for an answer. His heart almost beat itself out of his chest when Horatio nodded in response. Archie had dreamt of kissing Horatio hundreds of times: he had never quite been able to quell that particular fantasy. As he leaned in, he briefly wondered if he had caught a fever and this was an hallucination, or if he had lost his mind at last; how could the man he had loved and lived for actually be here, waiting in eager anticipation, rather than striking him, or pushing him away in disgust?

Archie closed his eyes as he closed the gap between their lips. In his most vivid imaginings, he had never conceived of anything quite this glorious. Horatio's lips were unexpectedly soft, and they moved against his with a tenderness he had never before experienced. Dear God, Horatio truly wanted this! Wanted him! Even if Horatio changed his mind, at least Archie would have had this one perfect moment, and that was more happiness than he had imagined would ever be allotted to him. He should use the time remaining to convey the extent of his love for Horatio without words. Something of Archie's resolve must have translated through his lips, because Horatio let out a soft, involuntarily moan of pleasure, a brief crack in his normally impeccable composure. Archie felt its vibrations course through his whole body. He had never heard a more beautiful sound, and was determined to draw it from Horatio again. He shifted positions so Horatio's body was pressed up against his own, and, noting Horatio's enthusiastic response, pulled him closer, wrapping one arm around his back, his hand on a surprisingly bony hip--how could someone so strong and vibrant feel so fragile?--and the other tangled in Horatio's soft hair. Archie had longed to run his fingers through those curls, to feel their texture, to be trusted with that intimate, vulnerable gesture, and to honor it by never having Horatio experience the terror of having that vulnerability used against him, of being held down--Archie held back a shudder and stopped that line of thinking.

Unfortunately, Horatio chose that moment to have his own hand wander up into Archie's hair. Archie felt his back stiffen and his fingers spasm, then still, in Horatio's curls. His eyes flew open to assess the threat, but were met instead by brown eyes he knew better than his own, their pupils dilated, staring intently into his.

"Archie?" Horatio asked, slightly out of breath, as he relinquished his hold.

Archie took a deep breath and felt some of the tension leave his body. He refused to let past horrors ruin this moment of bliss. This was Horatio, and Horatio had paused, had delayed the gratification of his pleasure, for him. He was safe. It was alright. Archie looked up at him and smiled. "Everything's fine. Sorry for the interruption." He cocked an eyebrow at Horatio. "Now, where were we?" he asked with a smirk.

Horatio grinned in response and enfolded Archie in his arms once again. Horatio, true to his word, was a very quick learner. The tentative, cautious kisses from earlier had become more desperate and passionate, and Horatio's hands, which had at first hung awkwardly immobile by his side, now roamed skillfully over Archie's back. In the back of his mind, Archie noticed that Horatio took great care to avoid bringing his hand above Archie's shoulder blades. The rest of Archie's mind was otherwise engaged, having been in caught up in the overwhelming and immensely pleasurable sensation of Horatio, warm in his arms, against his body, and against his lips.

Some time later--it could have been minutes or hours to Archie, who had entirely forgotten about the existence of a world beyond the two of them--they pulled apart. Archie opened his eyes, and was thrilled to discover it was somehow all still real: he was, in fact, in his nightclothes, and embracing and straddling a mostly-clothed Horatio on the bed. He took in the sight of his normally fastidious friend looking thoroughly debauched: his hair disheveled and mostly fallen out of its queue, his bright red lips in a dazed smile, and his unfocused eyes half-lidded and glazed over. Archie couldn't help it: his relief and happiness bubbled over into giddiness, and he toppled over laughing, his head on Horatio's shoulder.

“What's so funny?” Horatio murmured with a smile, as he again wrapped his arms around Archie, who had dissolved into helpless giggles and fallen over against his side.

"I'm sorry, Horatio. Really, I am,” Archie said when he had recovered enough to speak. “I just never expected to see the great Horatio Hornblower looking so thoroughly ravished.”

Horatio grinned as he absentmindedly traced patterns on Archie’s back with his fingers. “I had no idea it could feel so wonderful!” he replied once Archie had quieted.

Archie’s lifted up his face to Horatio’s, a smirk lighting up his features. “There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”

Horatio threw a stocking at him.


End file.
